


Control

by San



Category: Duran Duran
Genre: BDSM, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-04
Updated: 2011-04-04
Packaged: 2017-10-17 14:25:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/177800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/San/pseuds/San
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A momentary glimpse of what might be a threesome-to-be...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Control

Simon slid his passkey into the slot on the door. The light turned green; he lifted the handle and stepped in to the dark hotel room. For a moment he considered not turning on the light - it wasn't a suite, the bed wouldn't be that hard  
to find - but habit reached for the switch next to the door.

His hand was intercepted, firmly, and pushed down to his side. He startled, jumping to put his back against the door.

"That'd better be you."

"It better had?" John's voice was low, amused, and ever-so-slightly hoarse. "And if it isn't?"

Simon exhaled, half a sigh and half a hiss. John's dark shape leaned in toward him; the tall bassist set one hand on the door just above Simon's shoulder. Not touching him, yet still pinning him quite effectively to the spot. John pressed his forehead to Simon's.

"SAMmy."

Simon bit his lip, wanting to shake his head in amusement rather than denial, but knew enough to remain still. They'd negotiated the rules for most scenes long ago.

"Driven to silence already?" Simon could see the sly grin, despite the dark room. "No matter." John brought his other hand up and deftly slid the blindfold into place.

Caught totally off-guard, Simon jumped when he heard the snap of the light switch. "Can you see anything? Any traces of light?"

Simon drew in a breath to answer and then caught it again. Had he caught the faint rustle of fine cloth? Was someone else in the room? It wasn't John he'd heard; John was still in front of him, his hand resting lightly on Simon's cheek.

"I asked you a question." John's voice cracked like a whip.

"Sorry. No, sir, I can't see anything."

"Huh. Good." John patted his cheek, then kissed him firmly. Simon's eyelashes caught on the fabric inside the blindfold.

He was able to track John's footfalls in the carpet of the hotel room as he moved over to the bed. His ears still strained for that second presence. The blindfold was a particular torture for him, but to have an audience and not to know who he was playing to was almost more than he could stand.

His heart pulsed so quickly he could feel the pressure in his fingertips as well as his groin. It didn't take any imagination at all to know that John knew exactly what this was doing to him.

John settled onto the bed; Simon could picture him stretched out, leaning his back on the headboard. "Take off your shirt."

Simon hesitated only a moment, but still long enough to make John growl "Don't make me tell you twice." Stomach tensing, he obeyed with alacrity, his skin gone gooseflesh with the combination of cool air and adrenaline. He started to fold his hands behind his back and froze, again hearing the whisper of linen on linen, or perhaps silk on silk. Either way, it confirmed that there was another presence in the room; the sound had come from his left, and John was in front of him and slightly to the right, on the bed.

"Take three half-steps forward, Simon." John's low voice confirmed Simon's estimation of his location. "And I'd like your hands folded behind your neck."

By their measurements, the three half-steps took him halfway to the foot of the bed; he folded his hands behind his neck as instructed. His ears strained for another sound of the other person; it was hard to hear over the pounding of  
his pulse.

"On your knees."

He knelt without hesitation, caught in the moment. Particularly with an audience, he wasn't about to displease or disappoint John.

They held there for a long moment in tableau; John leaning against the headboard, Simon kneeling in the middle of the floor and the third person, unseen, somewhere to his left. Wondering if he'd done something wrong, Simon ducked his head slightly.

As though it were a signal, John spoke. "You see? I told you I had ways of curbing that ego."

"So you do." Because he knew John's eyes were on him, Simon managed not to jump at Nick's amused voice. "I should have known better than to doubt you."

John chuckled. "Yes, you should."

Head swimming, Simon stayed motionless. He heard Nick shift and stand, then come over to him. Nick's cool fingers brushed his cheek, followed by a light kiss.

"Try not to be too bad for him, Simon. We need you to be able to sit down tomorrow." Simon shivered at the low Brummie drawl in his ear. He heard the rustle of cloth again as Nick withdrew.

"Not staying?"

"No. But you boys have fun," Nick said.

"We always do," John answered, softly, as the door closed quietly behind Nick.

"We always do."


End file.
